


Hand in Unlovable hand

by ArthurtheGatekeeper



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because she deserves them, F/M, Hey Ciri why do you have 3 parents, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mind Reading, POV Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Reunions after the mountain, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole, Valdo and Jaskier are soulmates, Yennefer and Geralt don't have marks, both consensual and not (but no nonconsensual between main cast), none of that is explicit and it's all secondhand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurtheGatekeeper/pseuds/ArthurtheGatekeeper
Summary: The bard didn't play many songs about soulmates. Maybe that was a kindness he offered to Geralt and her who didn't have them. Who would never have them because they had magic.Maybe he just didn't want to remind Geralt that one day he'd find his soulmate and break his heart. Because what was the value of choice when destiny already told you who to love?Really. The bard should go find his soulmate and leave the unlovables destiny had abandoned to each other.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 65
Kudos: 719





	Hand in Unlovable hand

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder to check the tags since this fic does include torture. Nongraphic and it's all secondhand (Yennefer reading Jaskier's mind after) but Take care of yourselves!
> 
> Also this story was inspired by the song 'No Children' by the mountain goats and Jaskier sings it during this fic if you'd like to listen to that as you go.

The bard didn’t sing many songs about soulmates.

He ever played them only at the audience’s request, never spontaneously. She supposed that was for Geralt’s benefit. No matter how much the man liked to pretend, he was unbearably romantic. Bringing her griffin feathers because she’d mentioned needing them for a spell a month ago, complementing her even if they were awkward and stilted, looking at her with that insufferably soft face after a particularly good ride.

Geralt was horribly romantic. He didn’t need any more reminders about what the trials had taken from him. 

Yet that damn bard with his soulmark covered by his long sleeves wasn’t satisfied with the person destiny had promised him. No he had to chase after one of the few people on the continent who might actually want her for something lasting. Something more than a quick fuck on their way to their soulmate. 

“Not playing any songs about soulmates tonight bard?” She asked, draped over Geralt in a way the bard couldn’t be in public but she knew he longed to, as he stole a drink from Geralt’s mug. “What was yours not enough for you?”

“Yen.” Geralt warned.

She hated that. Hated how Geralt always defended the little leach. 

“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t want to hear those kind of songs given your markless wrists. Oh but they’re not so markless are they?”

“Jaskier!”

She grabbed the fabric of his chemise and let her other hand crackle with power. 

“What going to turn me into a lark Yennefer? I’m so scared.” He glared back at her but she could see his knuckles turning white where they gripped the table.

“I was thinking a frog. That way you would _croak_.” 

“Enough!” Geralt pull them apart. Jaskier adjusted his shirt and turned back to the crowd with a brilliantly fake smile.

“Bedroom now.” She pulled him away. He followed and she pinned him against the closed bedroom door yanking him down for a kiss. Several if she had her way.  
His hands ran down her sides as a shiver ran down her spine. “I have no idea why you keep that flop around.” She said as he moved down her neck. “He’s just going to break your heart when he finally meets his soulmate.”

“Soulmates aren’t real Yennefer.”

“Oh is that what he told you?” She unbuttoned his shirt with a smooth drag of her hand down his chest, chaos thrumming. “Because the marks are very real Geralt. And I know he has one. There’s not a spark of chaos in him.” Chaos destroyed soulmarks. She could still remember that first accidental portal fading it off her skin into nothing.

He pulled back and shook his head. His next words sounded _rehearsed_. “They’re just the person who knowing would most change your life for the better.” Is that what the bard told him?

“Sounds like a soulmate to me.” She said before making sure Geralt wasn’t thinking about anything but her.

She hated how Geralt called out for Jaskier when he was injured.

Sure Jaskier had been the one to call her, begging her to come patch up the hole the royal griffin had torn into Geralt’s chest, but she was the one who was healing him. 

She hated how Jaskier curled up next to him on her bed and took Geralt’s hand in his. Hated how he sang little ditties about Roach to him that made him smile through the pain as she knit him back together. Hated how he looked at Geralt like he was the most important person in the world.

Just like she wished someone would look at her.

But mostly she hated knowing that one day the bard would find his soulmate and break Geralt’s heart. Because the bard was just as much of a romantic as Geralt. Pretending that his _choice_ to love Geralt would ever compare to the love destiny promised him.

Love neither her nor Geralt would ever have because of magic.

At least there was a chance she could get her womb back. Her soulmark was a lost cause at this point. Whoever she was supposed to meet had died long ago.

“Yennefer.” Jaskier whispered into Geralt’s chest as she washed off Geralt’s blood. She turned her head to stare at him.

He looked as exhausted as she felt. He pat the bed on Geralt’s unbarded side like she was a cat he was giving permission to join on the bed. On _her_ bed.

“Unlike you I have work to do.” She waved a quilt over them. “I don’t have time to cuddle.”

“Your loss.” He mumbled burrowing into Geralt’s shoulder. She opened the door. She paused not convinced she’d actually heard him say “Thank you.”

She didn’t want his gratitude. His acknowledgement made it harder to ignore the gratitude building in _her_ chest. That Jaskier had been there to call for her. That Geralt hadn’t been alone. That he wouldn’t be alone when he woke up.

He would be. Alone. Once Jaskier found his soulmate. She could already tell how it would bleed Geralt’s soft heart dry.

She closed the door with more force than necessary. 

She hated how the bard always came first.

Geralt had run over to Jaskier the second the fight was over to check on him. Inspected the wounds and run off to collect the ingredients needed for an anti-venom without so much as glancing at her or the injuries she’d sustained.

Just a friend indeed. Should have seen this coming. Offering anything to a mage for his safety. Of course the bard always came first.

“He’d have done that for anyone he accidentally cursed. He ran back into a collapsing building for you.” Jaskier swore. “Can you be any crueler with the stitching? At least magic me some pain relief?”

“Let’s see shall we?” He yelped in pain as she tied the string off. “He only did that because he thought he owed me your life.”

“Seems like you’ve just proved my point then. Anything for a debt.” He wobbled as the venom began to unsteady him. “Seriously Yennefer painkillers? Alcohol? Something?"

“Do I look like a barber to you? Besides it might interact with the anti-venom Geralt’s getting. Deal with it.” She sat back to back with him, propping him up. If he was laying down the venom would spread to his heart sooner. At least the warmth of his back helped draw off the chill that accompanied being drained and bloody.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one dying of Endrega venom.”

“Like Geralt would let you die.”

“Oddly enough I don’t think it’s largely up to him.”

“He’d fistfight death for you. Not that I understand why.”

He let out a bright laugh that was only very filled with pain. “You and me both Yennefer.” His head flopped backwards against her shoulder.

“It’s like he thinks you’re his fucking soulmate or something.” She couldn’t stop the anger the flooded her words.

It always came back to that for her. Jaskier had a soulmate. Had someone out there who destiny made to love him. Yet he insisted on playing in the loser’s bracket. Romancing the unlovable unmarked people destiny abandoned.

Why couldn’t he just let her have Geralt and fuck off with the gift destiny gave him?

“Soulmates aren’t real Yennefer.” His words drooped with paralysis. She grit her teeth and tried to further slow the venom. Geralt would never forgive her if she let the bard die.

Or worse he would because he’d blame himself.

“Keep telling yourself that Jaskier.” He was drooling on her unable to keep his mouth closed. He owed her at least two ridiculous Geralt stories for that. “No dying. I am not dealing with Geralt mourning your stupid ass.”

“Mhmm.” He garbled several unidentifiable words. “Immm aad he haa oou heen I ooo.” 

She was saved from listening to more of his garble by the rapid clattering of Roach’s hooves.

“Eraal!” He gummed.

“Geralt.” She agreed.

She hated Geralt. How he had taken her choice by binding them with a wish. How she couldn’t tell if she actually loved him or if the djinn just made her love him.

Made him love her.

“You know what?” Her voice slurring more than she expected. “Fuck Geralt.”

Jaskier beamed at her smacking his wine into hers. “Cheers to that Yennefer!” 

“And fuck djinns.” She raised her cup higher.

Jaskier raised his to meet hers. “Wishes be damned!”

“And you know what?” He asked what as she refilled their cups. “If this is what it’s like when destiny sets you up; not knowing if they actually love you or if you actually love them or if _Destiny_ just made you both love each other then I am fucking Glad I don’t have a soulmate.”

She smacked her cup against his.

“I was honestly so concerned you’d find your soulmate and break his stupid heart. But nope! His unlovable ass broke up with you! Never saw that one coming.”

He got lost in the smooth surface of his wine for too long so she kicked him under the table. He blinked hazily up at her. “His ass is very lovable.”

“It’s his best feature.” She nodded.

“Naaaah. Have you seen his arms?”

She remembered his arms. “I have.” She agreed appreciatively. 

“Or how about those soft smiles he saves for Roach and small animals?”

“He gives me that smile all the time.” She told him.

“Like I said. Small animals.”

She made sparks dance on her fingers to remind him who he was dealing with. He cooed at them like they were adorable. They were very pretty.

“But his best feature?” He crossed his arms on the table resting his cheek on them to watch the sparks. She paused waiting for him to actually say what it was. He stared at the spark that rested between two of her knuckles. “His heart.”

“That stupid asshole just broke up with you after two fucking decades like that and you think his best feature is his _heart_?” She laughed into her drink. “Guess he didn’t keep you around for your brain!”

“No. But he kept me around. That’s more than I can say about anyone else.”

She frowned at that. Bastard bard looked so fucking sad. Geralt always got pissed when she made the bard sad. Not that Geralt cared anymore.

“Well unlike me and the unlovable ass with the very lovable ass you’re lucky.” She put her hand over the mark on his wrist. “Cause destiny gave _you_ someone. A Soulmate.”

He looked at her hand covering his wrist. He covered hers with one of his. Fingers long and skilled. She’d heard plenty about just how skilled. She was drunk enough that sleeping with Jaskier seemed like a reasonable way to punish Geralt while enjoying herself. She smiled slightly awaiting his proposition.

“Want to hear a song about soulmates?” He set her hand aside and stood up to play.

“No.” She yelled after him as he began strumming a song that definitely wasn’t about soulmates. He must have been way drunker than she’d thought. Probably wouldn’t have been any good then anyway. 

At least he stayed in key, even if the song was a terrible choice to play at a bar.

Maybe next time he’d be sober enough to show her a good time.

The world burned and she didn’t bother hating Geralt or Jaskier because there were more important things to hate. More important things to do.

Like stopping Nilfgaard. Not that she planned on joining the effort. But after Sodden both sides settled back to lick their wounds. It was several months before they managed to convince her to help them out again.

Breaking out several ‘high value’ prisoners from a detention camp. They expected at least one mage and needed the backup apparently.

Course she’d ended up in the basement offing the remaining staff and portaling the survivors out. Quieting the few so far gone that weakly beating hearts were the only ones that hadn’t received the memo of their passing.

She didn’t recognize the gaunt form the torturer held a knifepoint. Didn’t bother to listen to his demands as she dropped him, dead. The naked prisoner collapsing onto his knees under his own feeble weight.

She didn’t recognize him when he swayed and fell further to his elbows or when those pale blue eyes met hers; her expression carefully crafted to appear neutrally bored. She'd seen enough laboratories of mages who didn’t believe in moral scruples to perfect it.

That was until she heard him whisper one word as he bled out onto the masonry. Consciousness rapidly departing.

“Yennefer.”

She took comfort in the fact his eyes closed before her face broke. She didn’t need him thinking her vulnerable. Not that he could have hurt her. Not any more than he did simply by saying her name.

She could hear the other mages entering the basement. Clearing the last few cells. They didn’t need her to finish the job. Certainly wasn’t going to let them see her like this. See him like this.

She picked him up barely needed magic to do so, he was so light with hunger, and carried him out.

He slumbered, held deeply under, as she reformed his fingers back into their long and graceful shape. As she closed the open wounds into scarless skin. She couldn’t help the ones that had already closed into pink scars but she faded them white as best she could.

He’d always been so proud. ‘I’ve walked these roads many years with just my lute and the only scars I have are the ones on my heart.’

‘How many years exactly?’ She sometimes asked or ‘and who do you have to thank for that?’ after the Endrega incident. 

Geralt had always looked sad when she brought up the bards age. Like he really thought _that_ was why he’d lose him.

Course she had thought it would be to his soulmate. So in the end neither of them had been right.

They hadn’t touched his mark. Unusual for torturers. Not that damaging the mark would stop destiny but people were usually protective of them. Didn’t want them damaged. So they would damage them. Because their job was to hurt. 

They hadn’t so much as scratched it.

A lute and a mandolin. Their strings one in the same. Another musician. Surprising he hadn’t already found them.

She covered it before she had him dressed. He always kept it covered, for Geralt’s sake of course.

The lute would be long gone. Pawned or destroyed, there was no way she’d find it. There was little point in looking. 

His name hadn’t been on the list of people they’d hoped to retrieve. She skimmed through it again just to make sure.

No Jaskier.

No one had reported him missing. But who reported troubadours missing?

The council called. Demanded to know where she’d gone, who she’d taken, if they’d given up anything vital. She didn’t bother picking up.

She didn’t like Jaskier. That didn’t mean she was going to let them root around in his mind for answers. Whatever they thought he knew it was probably about Geralt. She wasn’t giving them him. She wasn’t letting them touch either of them.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t need to know what Jaskier had told them.

“Lady Yennefer. Your guest just woke. Kaja is feeding him now.”

She nodded and crossed the building to his room. He was already smiling and attempting to flirt with Kaja when she arrived.

At least they hadn’t broken the idiot then.

He turned to her when she entered and the spark in his eye didn’t look quite so real.

“Yennefer. Always a delight. Tell me which rotted corpse did you pull these dreary rags off of?” He asked pulling at the loose fitting tunic they’d dressed him in.

“Better than what you had on before. That will be all Kaja.” The girl ducked from the room with the empty broth bowl. The door closed and she strode over to him, her shoes clicking satisfyingly on the stone floor. Usually he managed to look fearfully impressed by her at least.

Today all he managed was to drop back into the bed, already exhausted by his performance for Kaja. “What do you want?”

“I need to know what they got from you.”

Sunken eyes glazed over her. “Get on with it then.”

She didn’t bother apologizing for the violation atop the mountain he’d suffered already as her fingers touched his face and her mind entered his. Better her than a stranger. Probably.

She saw what they had done to him. Heard how he plead for death. Begged for it to stop. Listened to him repeat the stories and songs they could have easily heard in the bar as they beat him senseless demanding information about Geralt.

He told them how Geralt never walked the same path and that the only reason they ever met was because he spent seasons chasing rumors and he told them which chord progression the thought soothed Geralt and how Geralt loved nothing more than a hot bath.

He told them the story of each scar on Geralt’s torso and every song he had written and how Geralt would _thank_ them for taking him off his hands. That there was no point in continuing because his part was over. He didn’t have anything worthwhile to give them and that Geralt wouldn’t come for him so if that’s why they were keeping him alive they were wrong.

She heard as he stood in chains and filth and pain and called out for no one at all.

She felt another mage force her way into his head. Tear through his mind as he screamed song after song trying to keep her out. How the mage had pulled out and sneered ‘unlovable faggot’. Felt his lips curl upward and hysterical laughter build in his chest at how _true_ he thought that was.

Heard her say as she left ‘let the useless thing starve.’

It was a shame she was already dead.

The edge of the knife pressing into his throat. Stone echoing through his bony knees as he fell. Saw herself wrapped in color and power and beauty too vibrant to be real. A name escaping a ripped raw throat. A name that did not bother with hope or gratitude or relief. That just was.

She saw her face break as darkness filled in. Sorrow the only company in the place without dreams.

Sorry that he hurt her.

The people who’d hurt him there were dead. But that didn’t mean there weren’t people she couldn’t hurt instead. She walked backwards in his mind. Past the basement cell. Past the Nilfgaard captain spitting in his face. Past the escort of guards who’d tied him to their horses.

Back to a mansion on the coast surrounded by lumber forests and town.

To Jaskier hiding his lute in a space between the walls, knowing the guards were coming to take him away. Debating for one moment if any of the strings could kill him before they arrived before realizing he couldn’t sully her like that. That maybe this thin wooden instrument was the only thing in this world that had ever loved him and he couldn’t do that to her.

To a man in bright formal clothing smiling at Jaskier as the guards bound him.

“Finally worth more dead than alive Valdo?” He asked, as fuming as he was resigned.

Valdo caressing his face in a mockery of love. “I am so glad we met.”

Blood. Hot and metallic on his tongue as he ripped a chunk out of his hand. 

“That makes one of us.”

She pulled out of his mind as softly as she could.

Pale blue eyes studied her. Concern marring his stupid face. “Anything worthwhile?”

“No.” Nothing that would affect the war efforts. They were after Geralt and Ciri but they already knew that. She took a swig of the weak ale Kaja left for Jaskier.

“Course not.” The bed creaked as he shifted further into the pillows. “Two decades and I didn’t know anything worthwhile.”

“Be grateful Geralt never took you to Kaer Morhen. If you’d been _useful_ things would have been far worse.” She’d never been either. If he’d known they would have made him lead them there. Trudging through the snow. Leading a death squad to the Witchers crumbling home. A hostage to weaken their already fragile defenses.

“Like that would ever happen.”

“Yeah. You stuck in a keep with a handful of Witchers all winter? There’d be bloodshed.”

He halfheartedly chuckled. Eyes already closed. “Anything else Yen?”

Her chest curled at the nickname. Only Istredd and Geralt called her that. She didn’t like how gently he said it. Like how he said Geralt’s name. She stood and went for the door with a simple “No.”

“Still no time to cuddle?” He called after her.

She glanced back at his half asleep form ripping open a portal. “I have work to do.”

"That's what you always say."

She stepped through.

Music floated down the hallways telling her he’d finally stayed awake long enough to find it.

Took him long enough.

He was playing in the alcove, leg hanging out the open window. It was the same song as he’d played in the bar that night all those months ago.

_I am drowning  
There is no sign of land  
You are coming down with me  
Hand in unlovable hand  
And I hope you die  
I hope we both die_

He strummed the song out as she watched him from the doorway. “Still not a song about soulmates.”

“I assure you it is.” He said staring out at the gardens.

She walked over and leaned against the windowsill. “How would you know?”

“Wrote it. For my third anniversary.” He leaned a little further out the window, breeze playing with his brittle hair. “Don’t allow men to marry men anywhere on the continent and they certainly don’t allow fourteen year olds to elope but soulmates have always been the exception haven’t they?” 

She didn’t know how to respond to that, kept her face carefully neutral. _Fourteen?_ How old was the bard now? He’d known Geralt longer than she had. Two decades. He’d known his soulmate that whole time.

‘Soulmate’s aren’t real’ He’d said.

“And destiny made them to love you so. If they can’t who could?” He pulled down his sleeve revealing the lute and mandolin strung together. He laughed wetly pressing the mark to his face. “Guess I got my answer eventually.”

She thought of the case just the right size for a mandolin in that manor on the coast.

Should have smashed it before everything went up in flame.

“Did you know Yennefer?” She met his eyes. She did not. “Valdo paid Geralt a thousand crown every fall for keeping me around.”

“No he didn’t.”

“He did. Every year after I turned twenty. Geralt’s armor always looked so nice after that. Valdo met him in the fall. He told me. To thank Geralt for keeping me out of his hair and to give him the money. And when we met back up that next spring Geralt kissed me for the first time.”

“He wouldn’t.” She knew Geralt better than that. Jaskier knew Geralt better than that. Besides, “No one would put up with you all year for a thousand crown. I wouldn’t put up with you for an afternoon for a thousand crown.”

He smiled at that. “You never saw how bad it was back then. And a thousand crown is a fortune Yennefer. Just because you lack monetary sense does not mean Geralt does too.”

“I had to set up a bank account for him. He is not the one with monetary sense.”

“He fights monsters for a living Yen. I think putting up with me for a few weeks might have been comparable.” His smile faltered. “At least for a while.”

She grabbed his face turning it to hers. “You seriously think he did all that crap for a few crown? Listening to your shitty music? Rescuing you from all those cuckholds? You think he would have offered anything to save your life if you were just a coin value to him?”

“Anything for a debt Yennefer.” The truth in his eyes cracked at her. “And no. I know he’s a good man. Why else would he let me say as long as he did?” His chest heaved with a sob. “I got two decades of pretending someone could love me. That’s infinitely more than destiny wanted me to have. The price of keeping me just got too high.” Tears streamed down his face and he wiped at his running nose with his handkerchief breaking free from her hand.

Anything for a debt.

Soulmates weren’t real.

“They're just the person who knowing would change your life for the better.” Geralt had said something like that. It sounded rehearsed. She had thought the bard said it.

He choked on a laugh. “That’s what Geralt said. When we met back up that spring. ‘Soulmates aren’t real. They’re just the person who knowing would most change your life for the better. Soulmates aren’t real.’ And then he kissed me and I wanted to believe he was right. That it was real. It wasn’t. But at least I got to pretend.” He wrapped himself around his lute like it was the only thing in the world that loved him.

She sat down on the alcove next to him. She should have drawn out his death more.

“You’re a romantic.” She stated.

He laughed. “I am a poet.”

“If you had a good soulmate you’d have stayed with them. Itchy feet and absurd horniness be damned. Even you would manage monogamy for them.” He mostly managed it for Geralt. When they were together at least. The time apart, full of courts and brothels, didn’t seem to count to either of them. 

“Speak plainly Yennefer. I am tired.”

“Witchers don't have soulmates but you had to because you don’t have magic. Would you really have been satisfied with a life any less adventurous?”

He looked up from his lute to her hands on the alcove cushion and shook his head.

She held it out to him. “Hand in unloveable hand Jaskier.”

He looked at her hand, her unmarked wrist, her face and then her hand again. “Are you really propositioning me while I am in these terrible rags?”

“I tried to at the bar last time but you decided to run off and play that awful song instead.”

“Oh.” He raised his hand, not quite taking it. He looked at her. “I’m still recovering so I doubt it’ll be my best showing.”

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to try again later.” She smiled.

He returned it and took her hand. “I suppose we will.”

“Lady Yennefer there’s a man here to see you.” Zenon wrung his hands slightly. “I. I believe he’s a witcher?”

She didn’t look up from her book but if Jaskier wasn’t still asleep he be complaining about the sudden chill in the room.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“To speak with you. Wouldn’t elaborate further.”

She sighed and turned the page. “Bring him up then.”

“Right away.” He ducked out returning several moments later with the brooding giant in tow closing the door behind him.

She turned the page.

“You haven’t read my letters.”

“Better suited for kindling than reading.” She said waving to the fireplace.

“Yen.” He plead. She kept reading. “I need your help.”

She almost snapped the book closed at that. He definitely saw her pause though. “oh?” She queried.

He tensed at her tone. “My child of surprise has magic.” Ciri. Jaskier called her Ciri. “She needs a teacher.”

She finished the page and turned it to the next one.

“Yennefer please.”

“What did you do with the money Valdo gave you?”

He flinched backwards. “How do you know about that?” 

She leveled him a stare.

He startled at her gaze before bolstering himself. “I gave it to Nenneke every year. When did you met him?”

“At his funeral pyre.”

His eyes widened slightly before they settled. “Jaskier won’t appreciate you fighting his battle for him.”

“He deserved worse.”

“Obviously. That’s not the point.”

“Obviously?” She snapped the book closed standing to face him. “ _Obviously_ you shouldn’t have taken the money Geralt. _Obviously_ you shouldn’t have said that to him on the mountain. _Obviously_ I should throw you out right now.”

He met her gaze. “Obviously.” He looked up, eyes tracking footsteps above. “He’s here.”

“I’m throwing you out now.” She prepared the portal.

“He won’t appreciate you fighting his battles for him.” He said again.

Her fingers twitched.

He was right.

Didn’t mean she liked it.

“Hurt him again and it won’t matter what he likes.” She promised.

His eyes tracked Jaskier’s steps down the stairs and to the doorway. He nodded.

She met him at the door, a coy grin on his face. “Yennefer-“

“We have a guest.”

He blinked looking up, the smile slipping from his face.

“Geralt.” He intoned. Body stuck between running to him and running from him.

She squeezed his bicep and he glanced back down at her. “Say the word and he’s gone.”

He gave her an unsufferably soft smile and kissed her. When he finally pulled back he whispered a thank you to her before dragging his eyes back to Geralt.

She gave him one final squeeze and slipped out of the room. Closed the doors behind her.

A child.

A child who needed her.

Ciri. The little girl Jaskier spoke about with such fondness. About the fire and claws and brilliance she barely contained each time he played for her.

Geralt could find someone else to teach her magic if they didn’t make up. 

But even if they didn’t Jaskier would insist she help. Because Ciri needed her. Because she needed Ciri. Because Jaskier could see that need in her.

“You’re going to be a good mother Yen.” He told her. Geralt hadn’t thought so. She told him as much.

“Well I’m not going to lie and say it’s not a commitment. Gotta choose to be a mom and then keep choosing it because there’s no other choice. Because you’ve always got to be their mom, not just when it’s easy or fun. Not sure I could do it.”

“You couldn’t. For multiple reasons.” He laughed as she started to list them.

“Yen.” He nuzzled her jawline to quiet her. She had more reasons. “You’re going to be a good mom. Not great. Not perfect. Good. Because you want it so badly. Because you’re going to want to do right by her so much you’d remake the world and, more importantly, yourself to do right by her. I know it Yen.”

“You keep saying her. Have someone specific in mind?”

His eyes glittered then. Offering the secret truth hidden there. 

She hadn’t taken it.

Ciri.

She looked down at her wrist. Scared but unmarked.

They would make up. There was no other option for the two of them. She would help Geralt because she already loved Ciri and would choose to love her for the rest of their days. Maybe one day she’d break the wish and find out if they loved each other beyond the magic.

And they would all love Jaskier who’d tied them all up in his strings.

The yelling in the sitting room quieted and she set about to pack.

They had a daughter to go met.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This fic idea made me cry so many times when i was planning/writing it. I even planned out the whole 'Geralt meets Valdo' in the bar scene but the perspective flip didn't feel right. (Valdo nearly died but then Geralt had the 'oh shit Jaskier's soulmate SUCKS I MIGHT GET TO KEEP JASKIER' thought and Valdo escaped while he was being a big gay imagining kissing Jaskier) Also Nenneke is Geralt's friend who runs the Temple of Melitele and sometimes takes care of him when he's injured. Anyway first time writing Yennefer! Love that badass Lady! Hope she turned out okay!
> 
> Remember comments/kudos fuel the writer! You can come say hi on tumblr too if you'd like. I'm abluescarfonwaston.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Keep your stick on the ice yall!


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